


Psychocentric Tailspin

by thefrogg



Series: Psycocentric Space [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrogg/pseuds/thefrogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek tries to deal.  Tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychocentric Tailspin

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on my livejournal. Betaed by fluffnutter.

"Here." Reid reached down, bracing himself as Morgan once again took his offered hand and hauled himself upright. 

"So," Morgan started, rubbing his hands together, then the back of his sweats. "Ready to go again?" 

"No." 

"Huh?" 

"Statistically speaking, the fact that I've managed to throw you nine times since we started -- fifteen minutes ago, I might add - is impossible." 

Blinking, Morgan drew back. "And you want to stop because...?" 

"Because the biggest threat to an expert isn't another expert," Reid answered in rueful exasperation. "I know training with me takes a lot of extra time, but I didn't think you'd be this condescending about it." 

"Woah, woah, wait a minute here. What gave you that idea?" 

Reid's eyes narrowed. "Um...the fact that I've thrown you nine times? I usually manage once if I'm lucky." 

"Look, Reid, I'm not trying to condescend, or any of that 'self esteem building' crap they try and spoon feed you." Reid could hear the air quotes. "I'm just...having an off morning, that's all." 

"Very off morning." Hands twitching nervously at his sides, Reid took a deep breath. "You want to talk about it?" 

"It's nothing. I just--" 

"Morgan." 

Morgan stopped, looking off to one side, jaw clenched. 

"You keep telling me I can talk to you about anything," Reid said, a bare hint of disappointment in his voice. "I didn't realize it didn't go both ways." 

Anguish and reluctance flitted across Morgan's face. "I've seen the bruises," he said finally, rough and gravelly. Taking a step back, he turned to face the empty gym and pinched his nose. 

"Bruises? Oh, wait, you mean after..." Reid's voice trailed off in embarrassed realization. 

The silence echoed, filling the room with a strange tension. "Bruises, ligature marks, bites, scratches..." Morgan shut his eyes, hand over his mouth as his voice fell to a raspy whisper. 

"You really think Hotch is abusing me? Is that what this is about?" 

A grunt of bitter humor answered. "I think Hotch would swallow a bullet before he'd do that." 

"Then...what? I-I don't understand why my relationship with him upsets you like this." 

Morgan swung back around, eyes shiny and dark. "I don't have any right to pry, but I can't just let this go, Reid, I just can't." His hands curled into fists, muscles tensing as if holding back a blow. 

"You have every right to pry. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a best friend, and that's what friends do." He licked his lips, uncertain. "Isn't it?" 

"Sometimes." 

Reid waited, but with nothing else forthcoming, pressed the issue. "Why does it bother you so much?" 

Morgan sucked in a ragged breath and swallowed. "You know about...Carl." 

Reid nodded. 

"I need to know if...this relationship between you - you and Hotch - and Gideon is what you want...or..." 

"Or?" Heat blossomed across Reid's cheeks. 

"Or if it's something you put up with to get rid of a bad case." 

"You mean like Roy Woodridge."

"Yeah." They both knew what Morgan wasn't saying, that Houston had been too much like looking in a mirror.

"It's, it's..." Reid sighed. "Complicated."

"Reid--"

"Hotch and I aren't a pair. Gideon's supposed to be with us, but he, he won't, I don't know. He won't join us on a permanent basis."

"He'll only--" Morgan couldn't finish.

"Yeah. Hotch can get me out of it, but not without..." Reid swallowed. "Not without going past my limits."

"Having both of them breaks your focus."

"It, it sounds so simple, easy when you put it like that." Only their mutual discomfort allowed eye contact. "It's not something I put up with, it's something I can only have when an UnSub gets stuck in my mind."

"Wait, this is something you want, like, more than just...when you have it? Because - I don't have any right to interfere with this, but - I keep seeing those marks and seeing your corpse in my head and--"

"Morgan."

Morgan stopped.

"You said Hotch would swallow a bullet before he'd hurt me."

"I know. I did. And he would."

Reid nodded. "This is what I want. Hotch and I, we talked about the marks. He, we left them visible enough, so you could ask," he said softly. "You, or anyone else on the team, I mean."

"You wanted us to--" Morgan sounded incredulous.

"If you needed to, yes. I'm glad it was you, and not, not one of the others." Reid took a deep breath. "If-if that means anything to you."

There was no correct answer to that, nothing that made any kind of sense. "Why?"

"Because it really would have looked like abuse if we'd tried to hide it. You would have seen something eventually, in the showers, or if I'd been injured..."

Morgan couldn't keep himself from shuddering at the very thought; the memories were too fresh, and always would be.

Sympathetic pain darkened Reid's eyes. "Would it help if you could see...?" He licked his lips, nervous, the half-voiced offer hanging between them.

"Wait, what? Reid, you can't be serious, I--"

"I wouldn't make the offer to anyone else, and neither would Hotch, but..." Reid stopped, closing his eyes and forcing his breath to slow. Calmer, he continued. "I know, we both know," and he was referring to himself and Hotch, not Morgan, "that your worst nightmare is being an accomplice to, to that kind of abuse."

"No," Morgan breathed, the word barely even a whisper. His imagination flung pictures at him, Reid bound and helpless, suffering in a far away cabin all mixed up with the truth he knew from fading bruises. Carl, unseeing eyes in a stranger's face, he could almost feel-- "No. I don't--I trust you."

"Morgan? You do know how it works, right?"

Silence.

"I have a safe word. And caution - slow down. And one to let Hotch know I need to be untied. It's a matter of trust as much as anything else." Silently debating how far he could take the explanation, Reid pressed his lips together into a thin white line.

Morgan held up a hand as Reid opened his mouth. "I know, you don't have to -- Look, I trust you. I trust Hotch, and Gideon. I don't understand this, this relationship you have with them, or at least. You know. Not this part of it. I don't think I want to."

"I-is there anything I can do?"

"Talk to Gideon," Morgan said after a long pause. "Let him know that his pigheadedness is messing with you and Hotch."

"We've tried," Reid admitted sadly.

"And he's still--?"

"He says he'll end up ruining our relationship by interfering. Or something."

"Gideon's an idiot."

"I wouldn't say it to his face, but..." Reid laughed, shaking his head. A glance at the clock made up his mind. "You want to get out of here? I'm a little too wound up for sparring."

"Yeah. Sure." A deep breath released some of the tension that had built. "Come on, I'll spring for breakfast."


End file.
